What are you doing?
Yes, you, tell me…what are you doing?
(Trying to cross the road while listening to Shape of You by Ed Sheeran, and you called right when I was planning to sing along.) Nothing.
Really, I missed you.
Seriously? But you saw me like, ten minutes ago, kwani?
You mean I can’t text to say that I miss you?
(You can call to say it, say the words!) Nah…it’s not like that, you can miss me and text me, a girl’s got to smile sometime.
So, what are you doing kesho?
Okay, is this like a bad time or something?
Nothing, I’ll talk to you later.
I miss you, bye.
If these thoughts fill me with gloom, then let it be known that my heart’s doomed.
A word, a text, a slight remark…it’s all we have, you and I and words,
they flow out your mouth, your heart bleeding into my ears.
Black t-shirt, blue jeans, black converse…brown eyes, set jawline, a dimple on your left cheek right above the smile you greet me with.
“Hi,” that’s how it started and now here we are, I am in my smurfs pyajamas being bitten by mosquitoes as I tell the world about you,
or is it the idea of you…
we both know, I see you, I hear you, I feel you,
I’m not the one who is blooming, it’s her…
and that is why your texts and calls wither,
for this is meant to die for the one whose heart you hold is already in bloom.